


hello

by pprfaith



Series: Wishlist 2014 [5]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Mercy Thompson Series - Patricia Briggs
Genre: Community: wishlist_fic, F/M, Meet the Family, Meeting the Parents, Post-Series, Prompt Fic, Schmoop, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 22:31:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2790047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pprfaith/pseuds/pprfaith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Samuel has the jitters and Buffy and Bran finally meet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hello

**Author's Note:**

> Kerrykhat asked for BtVS/Mercy Thompson – Buffy/Samuel – continuation of [this verse](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2790017).

+

Samuel isn’t really nervous about introducing his mate to his father. At least, not in a way he thinks most people could understand. 

His wolf has chosen Buffy as his mate, the same way it chose his father as his alpha centuries ago and if these two things collide, he will lose one of them, will have to either rip out his heart or his lungs. He will have to choose between two things he cannot live without. Nervous? 

Nervous doesn’t really cover it.

It’s more like he’s walking to his own funeral, with the vague hope of resurrection rattling around somewhere in his chest and God, what if Da can’t stand her?

Sometimes he misses the way he was pre-Buffy, numb and alone and content with not being content. But that’s the thing about love. It gives you something to lose. 

As if on cue, Buffy squeezes his hand and sends him a smile, bright and happy. Her scent is steady, calming his nerves the way it always does, with the call of home and pack and safety, the silent promise of _I will kill for you_. 

They left Oz at home, saving that introduction for another time, and came here on their own. Samuel and Buffy and Meeting the Parents. Charles already knows her, blew through Texas a while back on a mission. That was nerve-wrecking, already, but it ended well. 

Samuel hopeprays that this will, too. 

It’s strange, being back in Aspen Creek. It’s been almost a decade since he was here, longer since it felt like a good place. After Mercy left, it was a prison, not his hometown anymore. A place where he lived, slept, worked, yes, but dead, too. Meaningless. 

After Mercy, before Buffy, _everything_ was meaningless. 

Somehow, suddenly, he finds himself considering moving closer to Montana again. Not back to Aspen Creek, but closer. To family. That’s Buffy, calming him down, making him believe everything will be okay with nothing but power of will. 

She’s the strongest person he’s ever met, stronger even than Bran, and that… he’s afraid of what that means. 

Afraid of what it could mean, if he were made to choose. 

They left the car across town, because she wanted to see the small town, walking instead through the picturesque movie set that is Montana in Winter. They’re coming up to the Marrok’s house now, and Buffy’s steps are still steady, even though she has to be able to feel what’s waiting for them at the end of the footpath, by now. 

Da texted earlier, despite his dislike for it, to tell them he sent Leah out of town for their visit. Samuel, who pities and despises his father’s mate in turns, is glad. He doesn’t need an instigating step-mother on top of everything else.

“Will you calm down?” Buffy asks, abruptly, laughter in her voice. “You survived my family’s jumping the gun and assuming you bit me. We’ll survive this.”

He swallows because, yeah, facing a pissed-off witch, a slayer and a guy with one eye, wielding a machete, was an experience. Willow was actually halfway through the castration hex when Buffy cleared up the misunderstanding and Samuel doesn’t think he’ll _ever_ be comfortable around the redhead again. 

It doesn’t really matter though, because, while Dawn moved back to Texas with them, the others mostly smiled and talked of things Samuel knows Buffy doesn’t care about. 

“It’s not the same,” he returns, because it’s not. They’re family, this rag-tag bunch of former child soldiers Buffy calls ‘Scoobies’, but they’re not close anymore. She aches at the memory of them, but it’s an old ache. She has Dawn, has Oz. She has her mate. 

If Buffy had to choose, she’d survive. 

But Samuel has spent centuries knowing nothing but his Da and brother, and while they sometimes spend decades apart, they will never not be close. They will never not be the people he has the most memories of, the people he wants at his back, the people he trusts, beyond reason or understanding. He feels guilty about it, but his family matters more to him than hers does to Buffy. 

Which is why this is so terrible. If he had to choose…

The door opens when they’re still a good fifty feet away, revealing the person Samuel knows best on this earth: Bran is dressed in faded jeans and a t-shirt with a washed-out logo on the chest. His hair looks like it needs a cut, his face is unlined and pleasant as always. 

He looks younger than his own son and harmless to boot. Not at all like the monster that once terrorized the British countryside. Not at all like the most powerful werewolf on the American continent. 

Buffy, who has never so much as seen a picture of him, stops dead in her tracks, head cocked to one side. This is the point where most people politely ask Bran to speak with the Marrok. Even werewolves fall for the act, as long as he wants them to.

Samuel holds his breath and, when he notices, feels stupid and lets out a whoosh of air just as his mate says, “You have the same nose.”

In the doorway, Bran smiles. He steps aside, waves them closer. “You must be Buffy,” he observes, perfectly polite small talk. 

Buffy smiles, amused. She only likes small talk if it ends in quipping. Or violence. “What gave it away?”

“The fact that my son is holding on to you like he never means to let go.” And that’s… that’s threat and promise and warning and memory, all rolled into one and Samuel has no idea what to do with this, because Da has never treated any of his women like this, half-playful, half-serious and with _respect_.

But then, none of Samuel’s women have ever been the oldest of Slayers, the Chosen One, _Buffy_. 

Buffy, who nods, solemn and regal. “I wouldn’t let him anyway,” she shoots back.

It’s the right answer.

It’s the right answer because his Da’s expression grows soft, the way it did around Charles’ mother, around his second-born son in his early years, when he was mostly fluff and tooth gaps. 

It’s the way he looks around family, and Samuel hasn’t seen him wearing that expression in far, far too long. 

He steps forward, arms reaching to hug his father hello, never letting go of Buffy’s hand. 

When Bran hugs him back, something inside of him unravels. 

+


End file.
